A Series of Impossible Events
by WhereIsMyBacon
Summary: Formerly Forbidden Topics. Now one shots and shorts of a series of events that NEVER HAPPENED and if you ask them about it, they will deny it. [New: TCTNWATCWAS]
1. Forbidden Topics Part 1

**Notes at the beginning:** Used to house only Forbidden Topics, which people seemed to like so much for some strange reason. I felt the need to embarrass more of my male characters by making this into a one-shot/short story series. Hiroki will not be the only victim from now on. /gg

**Contents  
**Chapter 1 - Forbidden Topics Part 1  
Chapter 2 - Forbidden Topics Part 2  
Chapter 3 - Forbidden Topics Part 3  
Chapter 4 - The Conversation That Never Was And The Case With Awesome Sauce

**Forbidden Topics**

Prequel of silly by Halcyon Clouds

**Summary:** In which a certain poor high priest finds himself penalized for skipping church duties and is made to talk to a group of young, innocent acolytes about…sex?

**Disclaimer: **Ragnarok isn't mine!

**Part 1 of 2**

"MURAMASAAAAA!"

"Seize him!"

"Don't let him get away!"

"Ooomph!"

"I've got him! I've got him!"

"Quick! Tie him down!"

"Put the sack on!"

"I PROTEST! THESE ACTIONS ARE NOT CONDONED BY GOD!"

"SHUT UP! MURAMASA!"

Cries echoed through the completely silent streets of Prontera. It was in the middle of the day, but every merchant had stopped hollering about their goods, every child had stopped playing noisily, in fact, everyone had stopped moving as all attention was fixed on something that was going on in the square. The splashing of the fountain in the centre of the plaza had never sounded so loud.

Six priests and priestesses were wrapping layers and layers of rope on what seemed to be a potato sack of sorts. With a final tug, the holy-robed cluster heaved the writhing bundle over their heads, and with all the sanctity of a sacrificial ritual, carried it towards the direction of the church. Muffled cries of "bad karma" and "divine punishment" plus variations of "go to hell" was heard rather clearly coming from the mysterious brown package.

A priestess turned back and faced the entire population of Prontera, who still had their eyes glued to the bizarre show before them. She cleared her throat before announcing in a most grave tone.

"Remember. Love thy neighbour. Violence is not the solution to problems."

With that, she turned and followed her comrades up north.

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"This is an outrage! I nearly suffocated! My wrists!"

Out from the sack and onto the red-carpeted church hall floor tumbled a high priest with jet-black hair of varying lengths in a somewhat haphazard fashion. His eyes were the colour of earth, common, but in combination with his smooth features that betrayed his oriental origins, was enough to make women of all ages smile giddily.

However, none of the people that surrounded him at the time was smiling.

In fact, they all looked like they want to tear him to pieces.

"You're going to get it this time, Muramasa." One of the priests growled darkly at him, "Did you know…she left me because I had to work so much?"

"No I didn't," The high priest ran a hand through tousled hair, "Tell me, is she pretty?"

"Yes…her eyes were the colour of honey—WAIT A SECOND THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" The priest snarled, "THE POINT IS THAT YOU NEVER DO YOUR JOB AND WE ALL HAVE TO OVERTIME BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"Yeah!"

"Damn right!"

The lynch mob of clergymen all shouted in unison, then began to discuss heatedly about what to do with their captive.

"Give him the most nerve-wrecking job! Make him babysit novices!"

"No, no. The dirtiest job! Clean the graveyard after the infestation!"

"We should give him the nastiest job. Like…talking to Old Man Reinard…"

The priests all shuddered. Old Man Reinard was a regular at the confession booth. One would not know how to beg for mercy in death if one had not spoken to Reinard.

His sins once had things to do with octopi. And we shall not go there.

"I know what he could do…" A voice spoke from behind them, and they all turned to see the elderly head of the Church, the Pope (who has no name because the author forgot), standing at the altar, and an angelic, benevolent smile on his face. "It's that time…of the year again…"

"Father, you don't mean…"

"That is…brilliant! Father! Absolutely brilliant!"

The high priest sitting on the floor had no idea what they were talking about. But ignorance was bliss…he guessed, for now.

"Hiroki Muramasa," The Pope addressed him, "Your job for tomorrow…is to 'educate'."

Oh…that's not so bad.

"Sure, sure." Hiroki breathed a sigh of relief, "I'll do it."

What unnerved him were the gleefully malevolent smiles the priests around him all wore.

"You are to educate our youngest batch of acolytes…about…naughty things."

Huh? The high priest raised an eyebrow. Naughty…things?

"Sex, to be correct." The Pope pronounced the word with all innocence, "Though it's a little sensitive, they have to be taught."

Hiroki stared. Hiroki did not believe what he was hearing.

"That is your job tomorrow. Don't even think about running away." Benign, loving, priestly smile. Old men sure can be scary. "Meeting adjourned."

Hiroki swore he nearly suffered a coronary.

"But…I'm a virgin!"

The ring of prosecution looked down at him.

_All the_ _better._ They thought in unwitting unanimity.

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**A/N:** The more I like a character, the more I like to torture them in stories. This is especially true of the male characters. It was the brainchild of some coffee and meant to be a oneshot, but I felt that there's more impact if I make it a two-part. Second part should be up this week if you **review** (gg).


	2. Forbidden Topics Part 2

Hiroki: Thanks a lot people, you all want to see me mortally humiliated, don't you?

Everyone: YES!

Hiroki: I hate this world…

**Forbidden Topics**

**Part 2 of 2**

Hiroki Muramasa, that high priest who was just too carefree for his own good, has never in his life done anything remotely to do with women.

That didn't sound right. Rewind.

He has never in his life done anything remotely romantic. So it was a mystery to him how a clueless person can teach even more clueless children about…naughtiness. Of course, being a healer, he knew the basics of how the human body works.

And he at least knew how babies were made. Yes, the _real _way.

Hiroki sauntered into the common room that served as a classroom for acolytes living at the church dormitories. A blackboard had already been set up by a fellow priest who could barely hide his glee as he brushed past. Hiroki gave him an intimidating glare a la don't-push-it-or-you-will-regret-it style.

There were about twenty young ones sitting on the floor, twenty pairs of glistening, innocent, fascinated, curious eyes. Over ten pairs of which belonged to female acolytes were fixed on him with more interest than what he would have liked. These children could not be more than six, seven years of age.

In the back of the room sat three of the priests who had apprehended him yesterday. They waved and smiled.

"We're here for quality control." One of them informed him, a bright, cheerful grin on his face. Hiroki did not feel like responding.

This…all this…instantly felt very wrong.

He picked up a chalk, and scribbled with considerable psychological difficulty the word "SEX" on the board. Oh well, better get this over with as soon as possible. And it would save him from having to say the damn word so often.

Twenty pairs of eyes stared blankly.

"Now, uh, erm, I, uh, here to talk, about, well…this."

That was absolutely professional of him. Absolutely.

A hand shot up in the air. It was an acolyte sporting a pair of large, scholarly glasses on his face.

"Sir! I have read all books on acolyte and priest training! And I believe that skill does not exist!"

"B-because it's not a…skill…well it could be…but not in that way…"

"Is it like Blessing? Perhaps Increase Agility? Does it make you faster, stronger, or smarter?"

"I don't know about smarter…"

"Will there be a demonstration?" The acolyte pushed the eyepiece up his nose. "In that case, should we follow suit?"

Hiroki turned white, then red. Both matched his robes.

"No, no demonstration!" He floundered, his face an impressive shade of scarlet, "B-because…well…i-issues…"

"What kinds of issues?"

"Well…uh…need two people...no, no volunteers!"

The five or six acolytes of mixed gender who were waving their hands eagerly in the air gave a collective 'awww'. He shuddered, whatever implications that had, it did _not_ cross his mind.

There has got to be a better way out of this inferno.

"Uh…boys! Do you know of something you have that girls don't?" He addressed the acolytes of said gender, intent on changing the subject.

Silence.

Then, one of the boys seemed to have a revelation of sorts, and raised an eager hand.

"I know!"

"Yes?" Hiroki thanked God for making his life a bit easier that day.

"Boogers!"

He took back the gratitude.

"I'm pretty sure…girls have them too…"

The ten odd female acolytes fixed him with the evil eye. He gulped.

"Come on! Don't any of you know what the difference between girls and boys is?"

Silence.

"It's the place where you pee out of, boys! Girls don't have that!"

The children stared at him with their mouths slightly ajar.

"They don't?" Said the male acolytes, oblivious.

"EEEP!" Squeaked the female acolytes, holding their hands to their faces in various expressions of shock. "How do you know our secret, Master Hiroki? You saw us in the tinkle room?"

A cold draft blew through the classroom, creating a shrill 'woosh'ing sound.

"……WHAT? HECK NO no no no no ijustknowbecauseijustdo!" He babbled like a wasp had stung his tongue.

They don't seem convinced enough…

Hiroki might never brush his hair, but he was not a psychopathic child molester!

"He is a high priest, he knows _a lot of things_." Someone –who was definitely not a child- at the back droned.

Hiroki tried his best to ignore his devious colleagues. He was not treading on that mine. Onto Plan B.

"Uh…have you ever wondered where babies come from?" He decided to use the age-old prompt.

Silence.

"Errrrm, well…my ma said she got drunk and I popped out..." One male acolyte with a distinctly dishevelled look mumbled. Hiroki pretended he hadn't heard that.

"My mommy says I'm the devil's child…" Another young one piped up, completely innocent, "The devil brings babies?"

The high priest resisted with all his might to bang his head on the blackboard. What do people teach their children these days?

"Um…well…the truth is…your parents…do this-" He pointed to the word on the board, "-and make babies."

It might seem just a tad too abstract for their young minds, as all faces looked puzzled.

Then, the priest sitting in the middle of the trio grinned.

"Would you care to explain more about the _procedures_, Muramasa?"

It was too bad that physical acts of harm were sins.

"P-procedures…"

Twenty-three pairs of eyes were on him. The chalk in his hand snapped in half. The high priest turned a shade of purple.

"F-firstly…there is…a man…and a woman…" He half-mumbled half-stuttered.

Acolytes all nodded. He cursed their undivided attention at the most inopportune times.

"The man put his…"

He felt sweat trickling down his face.

"His…"

Hiroki wished this was all just a nightmare.

"His…_champagne down on the table_…"

The acolytes "oh"ed, as if they understood.

"And…and then…the woman…s-spreads…"

He wished God would strike him dead and send him to hell. Hell was infinitely better than where he was now.

"Her-her-her-her…her, _wedding veil_…"

"Oooooohhhh."

"And…and…then…"

"Then? Then?" They urged him on in unison. The little devils!

"Andthentheyhavesex!" He finished in a huff, as if that explained everything.

"But Muramasa, you forgot to mention 'foreplay'…" One of the priests drawled.

The acolytes all perked up eagerly at the mention of the word "play", since it was the only word that seemed to make sense to them.

"Play? Like a game?"

"Whee! I love games!"

Hiroki wondered how he should tactfully dig a hole and hide.

"Master Hiroki!" A female acolyte raised her hand, "I get it! It's a game! Is it like hopscotch?"

"Ah…uh…no…look it's not a ga-"

"More like tug-of-war." Sniggered the damned priests not quite so discreetly before Hiroki had the chance to ruin their fun.

"I see. No wonder you need two people." The studious acolyte flashed his glasses knowingly. "What about when lots of people play?"

There came a cough that sounded something like 'orgy!'

The high priest was feeling more than slightly squeamish.

"Enough! It's not a game and I won't demonstrate anything!" He managed to utter a half-decent sentence, to his own surprise.

The children seemed disappointed, and began to mutter amongst themselves.

"Why won't Master Hiroki show us?"

"Yea, he doesn't look so confident…"

"He probably doesn't know what he's talking about…"

"I think he must be bad at it, that's why he doesn't want to play with us…"

"Hey hey!" The high priest snapped. Outrageous! He knows _exactly_ what he's talking about! He was going to tell the little critters that…

"I'M VERY GOOD AT IT THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"

He _didn't_ just yell that at the top of his voice, did he?

That…wasn't…what he was meaning to say…

Oh crap.

The priests looked like they were going to die of asphyxiation.

"So wait, let me get this straight, Muramasa." One of the men interrupted, holding his stomach with a pained expression, "You've never done it before…but you say you're good at it?"

"THAT WAS NOT WHAT I SAID!" He lied blatantly.

"But you just—"

"YOU'RE HALLUCINATING!"

"I think you're actually telling the truth…" The priest sitting in the middle smirked maliciously. "Is that what you've come to realise _by yourself_?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's something called mas—"

"I INSIST!" Hiroki screeched as things took a turn for the gaudy, his voice a pitch too high, "Healthy values only!" Were those saint-robed imbeciles really priests?

"But sir! You just said two people are needed!"

Some kids were too observant these days.

"Ummmmmostofthetime…"

"What about other times?"

"You will…go to hell!"

And he meant that in every literal sense, the little intellectual needs to shut up. The acolytes all gasped collectively.

"Why is Master Hiroki teaching us something we will go to hell for?"

There was definitely something he's forgetting to mention here…about this whole s-sex thing. Why is it that people do it other than to procreate?

"Look everyone…sex is…not something you play with. It's an act of love, an intimate thing you only do with someone you love very, very much and that person only. That's why it's bound by marriage and you remain with one partner for life. You will all understand better when you're older."

He let go of the breath he was holding in. That was the only thing he had said today that made sense even to himself.

"That was…absolutely, disgustingly saccharine." The lewd priest in the middle commented, earning a fierce glare from Hiroki.

"Master Hiroki…" A small acolyte raised her hand shyly. He recognized her as one of the more withdrawn and courteous types. Hiroki breathed a sigh of relief; surely she wouldn't ask anything…objectionable, right?

"Umm…well…actually…" She wrung her dress uneasily as a deep shade of rose crept up her cheeks. "I r-really love Gregory…a lot…so…can…I…do this… sex…with him?"

Although he was still very unaccustomed to hearing that coming from such a small girl, Hiroki thought it sweet that she already had someone she loved so much, and couldn't helping giving her a small, comforting smile.

"Yes, when you're older." He replied pleasantly, the acolyte nodded in understanding, sparkles in her eyes.

"Out of interest, who's Gregory?"

She beamed like a radiant ray of sunlight when she answered.

"My family's pet Orc."

Hiroki's smile froze.

The only sound heard within the room then, was the dull thump of a certain high priest fainting dead away.

**The End! Really?**

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**A/N:** Sorry for taking so long! I hope that didn't disappoint anyone…Is there a part 3…of 2? Only if you want ;)

Little promotion: Come to the "Oh Porings!" forum! Where we ramble about smut and random. We don't bite…much!


	3. Forbidden Topics Part 3

Hiroki: I can't believe you heartless monsters want more…

Everyone: Encore!

Hiroki: Doesn't anyone pity my life? Hello?

**Forbidden Topics **

**Part…3 of 2? **

Hiroki woke up finding himself balanced precariously on the edge of a church bench.

"Awake?" A raspy, breezy voice came from the altar.

Hiroki scrambled up, and nearly tripped over his own cassocks.

The old Pope stood there in the shadows, the same warm, compassionate smile on his face. But right now, it seemed downright creepy to our high priest more than anything else.

"I must congratulate you for teaching our acolytes well today…" The old man spoke up again.

"Uh…thanks." The high priest muttered. In his own opinion, he hadn't been exceptionally informative but if the Pope was fine with it…who was he to complain? His head still hurt, and why was that old man still standing there?

"Don't you need to…go home? Sleep?"

"I was actually listening…" The head of the church continued, as if he hadn't heard Hiroki, "What you said about love and sex…it reminded me of my darlings Tess, Kayla, and Gabriel."

Hiroki sweatdropped, he never knew the Pope was such a virile man. Actually, is that even legal?

"Ahh, speaking of which…" The elderly cleric took off his tall, pope-ly hat, revealing a shiny bald spot, "I must go home now…Tess recently injured one of her legs…"

The high priest breathed a sigh of relief, mostly because he didn't want to be in the same room as that old man any longer. And that the Pope was a better person than he had thought. He actually cared for his women.

"And Gabriel would be lonely in her tank…"

"I see I see…WAIT—" The black-haired man snapped up his head, there was something very wrong with that statement just now…"Tank?"

"Where else would they live?" The other person replied pleasantly.

Hiroki felt a pang of morbid, morbid curiosity. He would live to regret this.

"Who…are you?"

The Pope smiled again, broader this time.

"My name…is Reinard."

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Hiroki was running through the streets of Prontera at dusk as though Dark Lord had donned himself in a pink flowery dress and was forcefully vying for his attentions.

In other words, very very fast.

He stopped at the square to catch a breath.

_Maybe I should go on extended leave to somewhere far like…Yuno._ He thought wearily.

**The End! Really. **

**A/N:** THE CHURCH IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK! Re-read part 1 if you forgot who "Reinard" is! If I, uh, insult someone. Please, don't take it seriously . I hardly take _myself _seriously. Oh and if you want to know what I'm smoking, let's just say I'm not passing it down. Thanks for all your reviews and love! Sal really appreciates it x3

If you want to read more about the misadventures of Hiroki, just hop over to my profile and read "Aetas: Card of the Golden Beast" (shameless promotion!) and sequels (not out yet). It gets quite tragic later on, I warn you though.


	4. TCTNWATCWAS

**The Conversation That Never Was And The Case With Awesome Sauce**

By Sal on a perverted and nonsensical spree of thought

"Your face makes me want to puke."

"Good." Said the champion with his arms crossed, sweeping a look of disdain over the table before him as though the food and drink were poisoned. Across from him, the stalker was snarling in a decidedly canine fashion similar to the matyr, a dog-like beast that was sitting just below the table.

"Maybe after puking, you would tell me why..." The champion swept a gauntleted hand over the scene and remarked pointedly, "you insisted we, no, you and I come to a...bar?"

"Yes I see that through your pea-sized brain you have realised this is a bar. And only in a bar is where men should be seen talking. Not that you would know anything about it...And no, you may not touch the chicken, or the beer."

"Make more references to my intelligence and you can talk to my fists."

"You weren't usually this eloquent around her."

"I suppose you weren't usually this...ah, out in the open around her either."

"What are you trying to insinuate? That I stalk her all day?"

"I believe people of your ilk are named 'stalkers'."

"You're a champion. But how come all I see is a dumbass?"

A well-barbecued chicken flew across and hit with a loud splat on the wall at the far end of the bar. A few splinters fell from the ceiling. The matyr that was sitting below the table yawned and trotted to the desecrated bird, gobbling it up in a few bites.

"Hey, I said no touch the chicken!" The stalker protested as if Gods themselves were violated by this act. "It was not the time!"

"Next thing will be the beer, and against your head." The champion replied nonchalantly, patting rid his gloves of grease. "If there's nothing you'd rather do than sit here and insult me. I think I will go do something useful with my life now."

"Fine. Don't say I didn't try to make friends--" The thief class took a gulp of liquid and mumbled something along the lines of "with a lower-life form."

(It should be noted that rogues are gargantuan hypocrites)

"Your effort astounds me." The fist-fighter remarked dryly, "But I wonder, why suddenly the...remarkable charity?"

"Because it has come to my attention that..." The stalker announced in a serious tone, "You are a depressing rival."

The champion raised an eyebrow at the person across from him as if he had suddenly sprouted peco feathers.

"And I am now doing you a great favour by letting you share in the glory of the presence of real men."

"The glory of the presence of real men is a bar in Morocc?"

"Precisely, there would be no fun winning you too easily. I am also appalled that you have no idea what AWESOME SAUCE is."

"...what the hell is that?"

The stalker seemed horrified, which was not an expression he put on often so nothing could be said about its integrity. But he raised a hand and shouted "BARTENDER!"

"Yeh? Whu' can I geh fer yeh?"

"Awesome sauce. Whole bottle of it. Chopchop."

As the bartender went rummaging in the bottom drawers of his counter for said sauce. The champion wondered if the desert heat had gotten to him sooner than expected.

"Are you...or me...sane?" He finally asked.

"Yes, I am quite. Not sure about you." The stalker replied. "BARTENDER! Sauce, now!"

A petrified intake of breath indicated that something was wrong. Very wrong. The bartender had a hand to his mouth and the other was holding a bottle half-filled with what seems like viscous milk. The attention of the entire bar, which consisted of many greedy eyes, was instantly riveted to the container.

"Dere--dere's only one, no, 'alf a bottle left! O' Awesum Sawce!"

"Aw-Awesome sauce!" The entire bar exploded with conversation, but all eyes have not left the bartender's right hand.

"Most...exquisite...flavour..."

"I've still got half a steak left with no sauce!"

"Only half a bottle left? I offer two hundred thousand zennies for it!"

"Are you crazy?! I'd give at least a million!"

"SHUT UP IMBECILES." The stalker stood up and commanded in his best I-am-a-stalker-fear-me voice. "I called the shots first, it's mine!" He then proceeded to reach out and grab the bottle from the bartender's still trembling hand.

A flying dagger knocked the bottle expertly away before the rogue could get to it, a dark figure somersaulted in and caught the flavouring in mid-air.

"What the shit..." The stalker cursed as three assassins showed themselves in identical attire and appearance. The one in the middle held a bottle. White, oozy liquid tumbled lazily within its glass case. "Who are you? And return my Awesome Sauce at once!"

"We are the assassin triplets. For years we have been in search of the legendary Awesome Sauce as it was the dying wish of our fath--"

"Don't know. Don't care. Save the chatter, ladies." Interrupted the stalker, "Hand back the awesome sauce! Get 'em, boys!"

There was a flurry of movement as all men (there were only men at that time, and maybe not all men, since the champion did not join in the activity because of its utter ridiculousness) in the bar dove towards the assassin triplets like a horde of wild dogs. The bottle somehow yet again found itself in the air, floating upwards through the cracks of fingers and past many, many hairy arms. Until a hand finally got hold of it, but never for long because its owner would then be crushed under the weight of many bodies and have the bottle yanked away from his hand, then to have the whole process repeated again.

The champion was inching towards the door, trying to be very discreet. But a 6-foot odd man with well-built muscles and a large, golden belt can only be one degree of discreet. Which is not. But it probably counted for something at that time since every other breathing being was after half a tiny unimpressive bottle of sauce.

"One for all! And all for sauce!" Cried someone through the mayhem, but he was soon stampeded into silence. And the stalker suddenly found himself in possession of a certain bottle. He heard roars of hunger behind him, and decided it was time to become a little more sneaky.

"Time to poof." He remarked to himself and disappeared in a cloud of dust, cackling gleefully as the people behind plunged into empty space while he made a mad dash towards the door. Then tripped.

It was easy to forget you still existed in time and space while you were invisible.

The bottle zoomed forward with unneccessary velocity, then decided it probably had enough and would someone just please smash it to pieces to end the suffering, uncorked itself and spilled its contents onto what would become an unfortunate target before committing suicide on the brick flooring.

"NOOOOOOO!" The stalker cried. "The last half-bottle of Awesome Sauce! Noooooo!!!"

But all was not completely lost! There was still a good portion not on the floor mingled with hell knows what. The rogue class dove towards the unspoiled puddle without a second thought. Every last bit must be salvaged! But what the hell is this red and white cloth in the way? The stalker was a stalker after all, and pieces of clothing were not a problem, since he had a few skills that dealt with such things in his command. Fwoosh! It was good as gone. But the sauce is starting to drip and if he doesn't save it quick--

He stuck out his tongue and licked it. Ahh, that heavenly flavour coursing through the tastebuds, it only served to make him take another lick, and another and...well, it was a bit saltier than he had remembered...

The stalker then realised a few things.

One. The sauce was not splattered on a conveniently placed flesh-coloured screen at the door of the pub.

Two. He took a look, then a very good look, then backed away and wished he would drop dead. But it was a good move on his part to have ONLY divested the shirt. And nothing else. And he thanked whatever gods there might be that he hadn't, for some reason, used full divest. Champion with a frozen expression of shock on his face, no upper shirt, and chest area wet. Check.

Three. The commotion had stopped in the bar, in fact, the silence was still like death.

Four. He must poison all the wells in Morocc.

-End-


End file.
